


tutto per niente

by anto_txt



Category: 91 Days (Anime)
Genre: 91 days finale, Angst, BL, First Person, Italian Mafia, Language, M/M, POV Alternating, POV First Person, POV angelo, POV avilio, POV nero, Sequel, Slash, Yaoi, antosenpai, au: sequel, avilero, nero x angelo, nero x avilio, neroavi, tutto per niente
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-20 14:39:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 11,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8252821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anto_txt/pseuds/anto_txt
Summary: tutto per niente (IT. /ˈtutto pɜː(ɹ) 'njɛnte/), "all for nothing".

  And I can’t help but finding funny
  
  how our last times seeing each other
  
  are always second-lasts.





	1. uno.

**Author's Note:**

> Fandom: 91 Days  
> Author: antosenpai  
> Note: Sequel!AU  
> Word Count: 513

**uno.**  
  
  
I am ready to feel some sudden sharp wave of pain around the shoulder blade area. I can already savour the metallic warm smell, the violent rush to the head, I can even picture the crimson streak very clearly in my mind, writing nonsense in surreal splatters and shapes all over my dusty shoes. I even look down in anticipation, the bullet must have pierced right through me, yes it should have - Nero shot me almost point blank, surely the blood is going to gush out of my chest any moment now.

“Now we’re even.”

Only, it _doesn’t_.

The particles are just settling before my eyes where the cartridge landed, only a few steps away from the tiny burnt spot of sand the bullet buried itself in. I’m finding it hard to concentrate as I squint and the dirty whiteness of the shore blinds me. I must be mistaken, unquestionably. I will drop dead as soon as my heart disconnects.

“I think I heard a car engine go by. Pretty sure it must be the guy with the fedora from the diner. Knew it was the Galassias. I really should get going. Avilio? Are you listening?”

Who’s Avilio? I’m Angelo Lagusa, my family was mercilessly exterminated seven years ago by the Vanettis and I am here to take my revenge. The continuous motion of the waves is mesmerizing. Nero, the sea. I’m Avilio Bruno. No, I’m Angelo Lagusa. The bullet, Nero. Right, I came here to kill Nero Vanetti. No, that is wrong, rewind. I decided not to kill him. That’s right. _What in the everloving fuck is going on, then?_ I’m still standing here like a spindle, turning around and around - the sand, the bullet, the cartridge, the shore, Nero, the sea, Nero, the sand, the bullet, Nero, the bullet, Nero. _When is my blood coming out?_ Nero, the gun, the bullet, the sand. _Am I dead yet?_

The back of Nero’s hand lands across my face like a whiplash.

“Oi, snap out of it!”

I process the thought: somehow, I am alive.

“Come on. I’ll act as a decoy. You just hide somewhere in the meantime and then run.”

_Very much so_.

“Nero, you missed again.”  
“Once is a mistake, twice is a choice.”

_You’ve got to be kidding me_.

“Actually, you take the gun. I should have more in the car.”  
“I killed your father. And your best friend. I killed everyone.”  
“But _me_.”

_You’ve got to be kidding me_.

He shoves the revolver onto my hands. Some remote hushed voice in the back of my head tells me he’s actually making a lot of sense, for once, and we should be on the move, but the rest of my being refuses to believe the reality of this aftermath. I should be dead. He should be dead. We make no sense whatsoever and the space between us is bending under the gravity of the paradox we’ve caused.

“I guess this is goodbye.”

_You’ve got to be kidding me_.

“Avilio– I mean, Angelo. Take care.”

_You’ve got to be kidding me_.


	2. due.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tutto per niente (IT. /ˈtutto pɜː(ɹ) 'njɛnte/), "all for nothing".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: 91 Days  
> Author: antosenpai  
> Note: Sequel!AU  
> Word Count: 494

**due. __  
**  
  
_I am a fool._

Main reason: I have let the person, my enemy who killed literally everyone who ever mattered in my life, live.  
Secondary reason: I am currently driving away in order to make sure said person makes it out of this mess, if not safe, at least alive.  
Tertiary reason: I have placed a _goddamn_ can of sliced premium pineapple on the passenger seat as a memento of said person.

Galassias’ men stopped a few seconds back but they’ve definitely noticed; not that there is anyone else around besides us, on this God forsaken Route 41, still - my only chance would be to side-track as soon as possible, get lost in the woods back there, burn the car down and find some shelter.

But _of course_ all I can see is this neverending grey strip parallel to the ocean for miles and miles on end.

So I sit back and relax, one hand on the stirring wheel, as I listen to myself hum a long forgotten tune. Maybe something my mother used to sing to Frate when we were children. Acceptance? Distraction? _Hope?_ How to define this sense of peace? Maybe I really have finally come to terms with all this. With what I have done, and what I haven’t. With the past, and what has yet to come. With myself, and with Avilio whose actual name is Angelo and I have technically known for seven years and I still cannot begin to fathom how something so small can twist your destiny to this extent _and oh my God this is the shape of my last minutes on earth, this is how I really end_.  
Most probably a bullet in the wheel that will force me to stop, come out, resign myself to the Galassias _,_ checkmate.

_I guess this is goodbye._

Next I am trapped in between the seat and the scrap metal of what must have been the car door, and the vehicle is upside down, and the sky goes under, the sea is all above me. I am suspended in mid air for a split second, then the fall. I remember the bang faintly, like a dream interrupted at dawn, maybe it was the front wheel, no, it was glass, they shot right through the window from the side, yes this is my own blood, yes. _Salty_.

How easily the sea swallows everything and I swallow the sea, incredibly easy indeed, we become one, the sea and I - this is better, so much better than being taken by the Galassias, _those bastards, how do you dare touch my sister, deceive my brother, I wish I had killed Ronaldo with my own hands_. My hands, still grasping the stirring wheel stuck against my ribs like a cage.

The last thing I see while my eyes are still open is the stupid pineapple can float underwater, escaping the trap that my car has become, my grave, through the hole in the window.


	3. tre.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tutto per niente (IT. /ˈtutto pɜː(ɹ) 'njɛnte/), "all for nothing".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: 91 Days  
> Author: antosenpai  
> Note: Sequel!AU  
> Word Count: 564

**tre. _  
_**  
  
When I see the car flying off the cliff, my first thought is: _I wish I had killed him instead._

In these ninety-one days, I had been imagining the scene of the murder so many times in my head by now it’s all a blur. A bullet to the head the moment he turns around. Slashing his throat open while he’s fast asleep. Set a nail bomb in his car so it blows up as he turns the engine on. A dose of poison in his wine so lethal all the blood in his veins freezes at once. I can’t even remember what I had settled for, in the end.

But it takes me the tiniest fraction of time to realise the existence of a pattern in my modus operandi, a clear consistency in my intent - after paying him back with his own blood, after murdering Corteo with my own filthy hands, after becoming the reaper myself, I knew I wouldn’t have been able to stand seeing Nero suffer for too long. Or seeing him suffer _at all_.  
I would have made it quick, as painless as death could possibly be, unable to look away from the shock and horror in his eyes as the realisation it was me, yes _me_ , would hit him. Fast, _faster,_ like the glimpse of a shadow when you slip away and can’t quite make out what it was that killed you, yet it happened.

But _this?_

Gun still clutched in my hands, I finally stand up as the sea swallows him whole, car and all, with the quietest thunder.  
Close enough to make out the detail of the Galassias jumping back into their vehicle - _I can’t believe you were right about the guy with the fedora at the diner, even I hadn’t noticed_ \- from the secluded bottom of the shore I can see them buy some time to decide what to do next. They must be assuming I was in the car too, _good job, garbage took itself out, we can wrap up early. No need to check. How could anyone survive a bullet to the head, a leap that high, and escape the merciless ocean? Fair enough, back to Chicago._

All the Vanettis are dead.   
The enemy thinks I am dead.  
There is nothing left to do.  
 _I am free._

The water must be filling his lungs right now.   
He’s struggling with whatever strength he has left to escape the death trap. _Pictures of Vincent, inhert and smiling in his arms._ He’s stuck in his own grave and still alive. _Pictures of Frate, his head reclined like a withered flower._ The pressure is sucking his last breath away. _Pictures of Vanno, six feet underground at age twenty-two._ He doesn’t inhale until he’s on the verge of losing consciousness. _Pictures of Fio, alone with a child that looks just like the man who ruined her life._ It takes a little less than one minute and a half. _Pictures of me_. About eighty seconds, before the brain triggers that one last involuntary breath.

_I wish I had killed him instead._

Suddenly I find myself on the road where Nero lost control, _when did I get here?_ , tracing back the trail left by the wheels, _I am free,_ I find myself counting in my head, _eighty-seven_ , I don’t notice myself walking, _eighty-eight_ , running, _eighty-nine_ , fast, _ninety,_ faster.

_Ninety-one_ , I jump.


	4. quattro.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tutto per niente (IT. /ˈtutto pɜː(ɹ) 'njɛnte/), "all for nothing".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: 91 Days  
> Author: antosenpai  
> Note: Sequel!AU  
> Word Count: 591

**quattro.  
  
  
** The first time I come back, the sun is low on the horizon and Angelo is so close to me I can’t quite make out his facial features. But I’d recognise that colour in a million, and I seem to have the whole shore in between my clothes and my skin, the entire sea beneath it.

The second time it’s scorching and I can hear Angelo chanting under his breath something to do with Jesus and killing me, hands holding his face together as if it could be falling apart any time. For some reason, he reminds me of my mother praying when I caught pneumonia at age nine. Then he turns around, and as I smile faintly, he punches the living lights out of me.

The third time I’m sitting up with my back leaning against a rock, and the sand is all different shades of purple-pink and orange. I stare quietly at the tip of my shoes as a small red sun sets behind them. Angelo’s sleeveless arm rests peacefully abandoned besides mine, his neck bent awkwardly in the opposite direction like when he’d fall asleep during car trips. We both appear to be still soaking wet.

I ache so much all over, even blinking is tiring. My chest in particular feels extremely sore both from the outside and the inside, and each breath I take burns my lungs like salt on fresh wounds. I’m not too sure I’d be able to speak properly, let alone get up, but then Angelo stirs and the moment our eyes connect I can see murderous intent painted all over his face.

“You are alive.”

He sounds more matter-of-factly than relieved, to the point that I almost instinctively say I’m sorry not to be dead. Which I probably am anyway, but from all I know, I was definitely drowning earlier today and if I’m still here right now it means he must have saved me somehow, so I don’t feel like belittling his gesture.

“Are you ok?”   
“You ask _me_ if I’m ok?”

Clearly it must have sounded like something very stupid to him.

“Nero, you were dead.”   
“Was I?”

Angelo looks at me the way one would look at a ghost, and I do feel pretty much like one, minus the levity. He’s still staring, half angry half forlorn, the same face he wore when I made him shoot Corteo. Then, without any warning, he punches me again so hard I can instantly taste the blood break out somewhere in between my nose and my mouth.

“ _You fucking left without killing me and then you go off and get killed like that._ ”

This time my left canine catches on my upper lip and I am shaken by the collar of my shirt like a puppet. I had no idea Angelo could throw punches like this, he always seemed more of the dexterous type to me. Or maybe it’s the fact that I wouldn’t be able to react even if he decided to stab me repeatedly.

“You would be dead on the bottom of the goddamn ocean by now if it hadn’t been for me, you fucking asshole. _You were supposed to kill me_ ”, he seems really hung up on this, “Instead you left me like this again, like seven years ago”, _ah, I see_.

“I said you should just live”, my voice is more hushed than I had anticipated.

“Go to hell.”   
“I tried”, I flatten myself against the surface of the rock, eyes squinting, “Don’t punch me.”

And I’m out again.


	5. cinque.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tutto per niente (IT. /ˈtutto pɜː(ɹ) 'njɛnte/), "all for nothing".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: 91 Days  
> Author: antosenpai  
> Note: Sequel!AU  
> Word Count: 607

**cinque.  
**  
What I hate the most about Nero Vanetti is how stupidly optimistic and unpractical he is about literally everything - _Avilio, let’s climb back to the main road and hitchhike!_ \- sure, might as well just plaster every single wall in bloody Florida with our faces at this stage, - _Then we can look for a cheap hotel or something and sort this out tomorrow with fresh eyes!_ \- yeah right, with whose money?  
  
I am quickly getting frustrated but old habits die hard and I’ve grown used to putting up with him and his childish whims, always trying to make sure he doesn’t realise I’d strangle him with my bare hands if I could.   
And if I wanted to.  
  
“Well, surely we can rob the driver, no? Just punch him half as badly as you did with me and he’ll be gone for good. Then we can run away with the money.”  
“You can barely stand.”   
“Plus we need to eat something. I’m starving. How can you not be hungry?”  
  
 _What an overgrown child._  
  
“It has been literally _half_ a day.”  
“Still–”  
“Listen. We will spend the night nearby. Hiding”, I try to sound as patronising as possible, or at least convincing, “The Galassias might decide to come back to check properly any moment now and all we have is one gun with one bullet left.”   
“Look, Avilio, can’t we at least give it a try? Surely it can’t be just us in the whole of Route 41. And if push comes to shove and they find us, we can defend ourselves. It was just two of them.”  
  
 _Oh I swear to God._  
  
“You are useless in this state. We can start walking slowly in the opposite direction and we’ll find some place.”   
“Avilio, honestly, it’s just a scratch.”   
“You hit your head so badly the cut is still bleeding after six hours and you nearly drowned.”  
“But Avilio–”  
“ _Call me Avilio again and I swear you’ll regret being still alive!_ ”  
  
He seems taken aback from my sudden reaction, and truth be told I don’t realise how loud I had been shouting until my voice echoes back to us across the beach. He’s clearly not used to being talked back to. Well, at least I managed to shut him up. For a couple of seconds.  
  
“Angelo.”   
“That’s right.”   
“I… Sorry. It doesn’t come natural to me yet, being used to your old name. I can see why you don’t like being called that anymore. This headache is not helping either. I am just trying to help and make up for all this mess.”  
  
Forget that.   
What I _truly_ hate the most about Nero Vanetti is how he can quite easily get away with exterminating your family and still make you feel bad for shouting at him when he looks at you like that, shoulders down and eyes so genuinely apologetical you can forget he’s a murderer.   
  
_Luce, I am sorry. Forgive me, mum, dad. Corteo, can you understand?  
  
_ I shake my head to imply it doesn’t matter. My excuse is we have more urgent issues to be concerned about - _how meaningless would it be to die now, after all we’ve been through to get here?_ \- so I slow my breath, _yes,_ focus on the task at hand _._ I will have all the time to regret this, to hate this, to hate myself for not hating him enough, even now I have a fresh good new reason to.  
I recite in my mind like a mantra: _I will take him somewhere safe and forget all about this._  
  
When this is over, I will have all the time.


	6. sei.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tutto per niente (IT. /ˈtutto pɜː(ɹ) 'njɛnte/), "all for nothing".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: 91 Days  
> Author: antosenpai  
> Note: Sequel!AU  
> Word Count: 598

**sei.**  
  
 _Pitch black._  
  
The feeling of something cold rolling down my left cheek, paired to the wake of a dream I can’t quite remember as clearly, startles me like a sudden loud noise. _No, wait, that was very real_ \- a thunder. We must be near the shore still, judging from the smell and the redundant crash of waves.  
The entire place reverberates like the inside of a war drum.  
  
Still dozing, I dwell in the theory that I might have been crying in my sleep, but then a second icy drop lands smack in the middle of my forehead - just the condensation from the roof, struggling to contain the storm raging outside.  
 _Wait, there’s a roof?_  
  
“Where am I?”  
  
As my eyes gradually adjust to the darkness, I can finally meet Angelo’s gaze across the room, which is actually a shed of sorts. I’ve always thought there was something feline about his eyes, but now that I see it in this environment, it’s actually uncanny - even the way he’s sitting with his knees bent right in the corner of the door left ajar, comfortable but somehow dignified, depicts the sibylline aura of a cat.  
  
“What happened?”  
“You passed out”, _his voice sounds so tired_ , “and wouldn’t come back to your senses, so I carried you for a few miles until we found this place. You’ve been sleeping soundly for about three hours.”  
  
 _He carried unconscious me for a few miles?_   
I can’t even begin to picture that in my head, with that thin frame of his, it would explain why he seems so exhausted. And he has been keeping watch for three hours on top of that? The volatile yet heavy thought that he will most probably never cease to surprise me insinuates my mind the way beautiful expectations and terrible fears do all the same.  
  
“It’s too wet for the debris to catch fire and I couldn’t find any food around, but this is decent for tonight. We should leave at the crack of dawn.”  
  
He had removed my shoes and jacket and made a temporary pillow of the latter for me to rest on.   
I tell myself: _this is what I wanted,_ a friend I can trust my life with. Regardless of the fact that said friend got everyone I cared about but my sister killed, I can still believe he’d risk his own life to fish me out of the ocean. And that is good enough as far as I am concerned.  
  
“Angelo.”  
“Yes?”  
  
His name is already starting to feel familiar within my vocal cords, like a tune in the distance on a Sunday morning lulling you back to sleep. I think I like it better than Avilio, after all.  
  
“Thank you… for all this.”  
  
I can only just hear him rustle about as he gets up, then he’s incredibly close without a warning. I find this furtive stealthy way of his still baffling sometimes.  
  
“Would you do one thing for me?”  
  
From the back of my mind: _yes, yes I would.  
_  
“It depends?”  
“You keep watch until dawn. I need to sleep for a couple of hours at least.”  
“I– yes. Of course. I was about to suggest it anyway.”  
  
From the pit of my stomach: _anything, really, anything.  
_  
”Good then”, the actual shape of his body clearly visible as lightning makes his shirt see-through at the edges, then he disappears in the dark again, lying down to sleep somewhere around the place I had occupied until a moment ago.  
  
From the bottom of my chest: _you’re all I have left._


	7. sette.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tutto per niente (IT. /ˈtutto pɜː(ɹ) 'njɛnte/), "all for nothing".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: 91 Days  
> Author: antosenpai  
> Note: Sequel!AU  
> Word Count: 568

**sette.**  
  
I think it was when I found out that even Ganzo was also plotting against him, the moment that something changed within my conscience.  
  
Regardless of how decent a person Nero could pretend to be from time to time, my one and only conviction rested on the rock fact that all the Vanettis needed to die - _yes, including him, yes_ , even though his hands were actually clean that night. He deserved it, he needed to die, no different from his murderous father, friends and allies, _you took everything from me and I will return that back to you with interests_.  
  
But his own kin has sold him out to the enemy in exchange of power without a second thought, after seven years seeing him grow up into a man, seven years of misplaced blind trust, seven years lying and plotting under the surface. His own people. Someone the Vanettis had sheltered, respected and relied on.  
No matter how I would look at it, the idea disgusted me instinctively, even though it had opened the way for my revenge to finally play out. I was to be grateful - only, I wasn’t. _At all_.  
They say that blood runs thicker than water but these rules don’t seem to mean anything around the mafia, despite how much they brag about the importance of protecting the members of the Family.  
  
So, right when I was one step away from wrapping this mess up, I realised something bad, something terrible, something that has robbed me of my one _raison d'être_ since then - _Nero is alone_.   
  
The walls are suddenly tinted of pink and gold, and the way time just keeps flowing regardless of our humane worries is both reassuring and heartless.  
Nero must have fallen asleep not long ago, _you’re terrible, I swear, you only had one job_ , judging from the subtle twitches running through his body, curled up awkwardly against the wall, my sleeve still wrapped around his head and slowly giving in to gravity. He seems a little younger and God, does he snore loudly.  
  
Crouching, I place the palm of my right hand on his forehead and he stirs slightly in return without waking up. He had developed some temperature overnight but feels now fresh to the touch. _He will be fine_.  
  
 _“Angelo?”  
  
_ I’d swear I heard him calling me, but when I turn around again he hasn’t moved one inch, neither does he seem any more awake than a moment ago. He looks so upset with that wrinkled frown in between the eyebrows, I find myself mirroring that very same expression without realising.  
  
Nero. My past, my nemesis, and everything in between.  
  
 _“Nero?”  
  
_ I don’t know why I tried, or what had I expected. But I do know I am both disappointed and glad he hasn’t answered me.   
And this is how we part, the same way we met - by pure chance, by sheer obstinacy of the fate, because we had to save each other from ourselves before being able to leave.  
His only fault was to be born a Vanetti, which has made him executioner and victim at once, against his own will. _Yes, this is me_ , I tell myself as I watch him one last time, _you and I are both alone and just the same_.   
  
I return the gun to his side, place his hand safely on it, and I don’t look back.


	8. otto.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tutto per niente (IT. /ˈtutto pɜː(ɹ) 'njɛnte/), "all for nothing".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: 91 Days  
> Author: antosenpai  
> Note: Sequel!AU  
> Word Count: 1184

**otto.**  
  
“I have killed many, Father.”  
  
The church is as still as the holy water in its basins and dense with the smell of wax and incense. From where I’m kneeling, I can see the back of my sister’s veil, the same hand-embroidered one our mother was wearing at grandma’s funeral. She’s still wearing black, after all this time.  
  
“Our Lord forgives those who recognise the Devil in their actions and choose to change their way of life. Do you regret what you’ve done, my son?”  
“I cannot promise I won’t kill again, but I do regret, Father, I do, I have lost so many dear to me already because of my mistakes.”  
“Our Lord is great and wise and will teach you the ways of repenting through penitence. Is there anything else you want to confess, or perhaps ask?”  
  
I lay my forehead on the rough surface of the wooden sill, hands tightly clasped, eyes shut. I can’t help but think of Vanno, his hands joint in prayer one second, then deadly clamp around someone’s neck only moments after. I was never able to strangle anyone, and he’d make fun of me because of this sometimes.  
  
“Is it wrong not to hate somebody who has caused you much despair? Who did wrong to those you love, yet you still cannot bring yourself to despite them, and you wish them good, and you would put your own life on the line for them? Is it wrong?”  
“It is not, my son, it is indeed what our Lord wishes for all of us, to forgive and to love each other.”  
  
I am given a dozen Pater Noster and a few Ave Maria to recite, which makes me sneer almost, _I could be praying my entire life, and even then, it wouldn’t be enough._  
  
Then here she comes, walking down the aisle just like that fateful day, and in my mind she’s still wearing the bridal dress, I see our father holding her arm, and she’s smiling regardless of how horrible it must be to marry a man you don’t love for the sake of your family.   
I whisper, barely audible: “ _Fio_.”  
  
The mixture of fear and shock on her tired face. She still looks incredibly pretty though, with her hair tied back in a tidy bun, but already much bigger. I wonder if the baby is already kicking, or if it’s too early for that, I have no idea. If she has picked a name, and what she’s thinking right now, coming up to me, I wonder if she hates me, if she could ever forgive me for killing our little brother. _I wonder if she wishes me dead too._  
She doesn’t even turn around, our shoulders scarcely brushing as we surpass each other at the front double doors. I can feel my heart sink underground, _this is what you deserve, even your little sister has forsaken you_ , but then I can hear her faintly, voice as small as a mouse’s, " _Meet me in two hours at the yard in the back of this church._ ”  
  
Time truly ticks away like eternity for those who wait.  
  
Her arms around my shoulders, immediately.  
“I thought you were dead… Where have you been?”  
”Quickly popped into hell and came back to see how my little sister was doing.”  
”Joking around even at a time like this? The Galassias are looking for you everywhere”, hands clutching her blouse to stop the shaking, “I’m so glad to see you’re ok… But Nero, you really shouldn’t be here.”  
”What? How do they even know I am still alive–”  
“They just won’t give up. Their men are keeping watch at my gates day and night, the only reason they let me live is this child. For Ronaldo’s sake”, _I know, I know those bastards would kill a woman without a second thought._ ”If only… If only things had been different. I can’t help but thinking that maybe, just maybe, if I hadn’t married Ronaldo… If we had just given up all this business nonsense and left town, then we could’ve been just happy, you know? Nobody would’ve had to die for this. Maybe I…”  
Fio looks down, scornful, as if she has just realised who she is talking to, that perhaps what she is trying to say would make me angry. I am just lost.  
“…Maybe I could’ve even returned Vanno’s feelings, instead of pretending.”  
“…Wait, what?”  
“Don’t make that face, it was clear as day. You honestly didn’t know? Nero, you really are blind to everyone else but yourself, sometimes. But it doesn’t matter anymore, now, you need to hide, please go somewhere far and… And just be safe. Start anew. I will give you some money, I don’t have much, I am sorry… I am glad I was able to see you one last time… At least that poor boy’s sacrifices won’t be for nothing.”  
  
_O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended thee._  
  
” _Who_?”  
“What was his name again? Avilio?”  
  
_And I detest all my sins because of thy just punishments._  
  
”What does Avilio have to do with all this now?”  
“What do you mean? That’s the reason why they think you’re still alive somewhere. Because they found him. Weren’t you together?”

 __But most of all because they offended thee, my God._ _  
  
“Galassias’ henchmen caught him about a week ago… Somewhere down in Florida. They came to see me straight after, thinking I could be hiding you. They crashed the entire place down to splinters… It was awful, I was so scared. They thought I was lying, cursed me and our family name, said that if I ever see you again and not report to them, then I might as well go die in a ditch somewhere. They are monsters, know no shame or respect, not even for someone who married into their family. Why does it have to be like this?” 

_Who art all good and deserving of all my love._  
  
“I asked why so suddenly, and they said so, that they had him… But he refuses to tell them your whereabouts, so I…  I assumed that maybe you two had a plan but something had gone wrong. All I heard was that you escaped together after the shooting at the opera house… Our dad… So many have died for nothing already and they won’t be happy until the last of us is gone. You need to go, Nero, please, at least you, don’t make me suffer like this again… Please.”  
  
_I firmly resolve, with the help of thy grace, to sin no more._  
  
“I am scared, Nero, they just said I’d end up like him if I refused to comply, he just won’t say anything, I have no idea what happened after I left Lawless, all I know is he won’t speak, he refuses to tell them where you are, so they’re still looking for you and you cannot afford being here any longer. Please. _Please_ , please do it for me, do it for your sister, Nero.”  
  
_And avoid the near occasions of sin._  
  
“Please…”  
  
_Amen._


	9. nove.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tutto per niente (IT. /ˈtutto pɜː(ɹ) 'njɛnte/), "all for nothing".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: 91 Days  
> Author: antosenpai  
> Note: Sequel!AU  
> Word Count: 842

**nove.**  
  
From time to time, I would dream of you. I wish I could dream of Luce or Corteo more but it's you, it's you, it's always you.  
And it makes absolutely no sense because we're at my old house that you Vanettis burnt to ashes that night, and it is my birthday again, two-layered cake with candles and all, I don't know why but I am so happy, happy like I was before you arrived. You smile a lot like an idiot and then you say something but I can never hear.  
  
Then everything goes red, the carpet, my legs, my eyes, bizarre blurs into reality and I am given powdered crystals of some cheap drug so badly crushed I can feel it burning down my lungs even now.  
  
It is extremely hard to keep track of the passing time when all you have is your internal clock. The curtains stay shut at all times and the room itself is so dark and damp I can't even tell if it has ever seen the light of day at all. But I believe it has been about a week now because Strega comes to see me once a day, sometimes twice, when he's in a particularly bad ( _good?_ ) mood.  
  
I don't know where I am. My guess is the Galassias' mansion in Chicago but it might just be that their taste in furniture is equally shit at all their estates. I don't know because they knocked me out and I haven't seen a good part of the journey here. Yet there's something about it that looks familiar, or maybe my memory is tricking me. I can feel it escaping me at times, which honestly worries me, because I need it intact.  
Being conscious is a torment, so I try to sleep as much as I can to keep myself sane. They don't even let me get up from this fucking chair to take a leak but good news is they feed me the bare minimum to keep me alive, so I rarely even need to go.  
  
Some other times I would dream of you drowning, and despite all the rescue breaths I blow into your mouth, you never come back.  
At this point I always wake up to some sharp pain, which I am grateful for. I think I actually did whisper _thank you_ to Strega once, the only two words I have spoken since forever, but he didn't hear me. And it doesn't hurt. _It doesn't hurt_. The suffering is an illusion of the mind.  
  
I have no idea where you might be right now and I really don't want to know. I am worried my intuition might be right and the words might escape me out of sheer desperation, I could really tell them anything and they would believe me, as I am their only hope to find you. I have thought of many ways out, but I am so exhausted it's just easier and safer to give them the silent treatment.  
  
About half a day ago, Strega got so angry because of _'that vicious look in my eyes'_ he knocked me off the chair. I've been on the floor since then.  
  
Strega asks me why I do this. _But I don't need a reason to. I just do it._  
Then he says I'm inhuman for taking all the beating without a word. I wonder if they train their men at kindergarten. This is nothing.  
Then he says that I must like it otherwise I would rebel to it. He calls me all the names under the sun, slams my head against the surface so hard that for a few minutes I can't feel anything at all but the noise of ripping fabric. Here's the floor once more, _God I hate being touched, hit me harder so I blackout for longer._  
  
Did I ever tell you of my life before the day of the letter? No, of course I haven't. You know nothing about me, after all.  
But these days remind me of that time, only a lot more bearable, and I will explain why if I ever see you again. _No, no, I don't want to see you ever again._  
  
"Do you feel a little more talkative now?"  
"Boss-- Sorry to interrupt."  
"Oh for Christ's sake. Can't you see I'm busy here?"  
"Yes, Boss. Sorry, Boss. But it is Vanetti who wants to see you."  
"Are you kidding me? Nero Vanetti?"  
"Yes, Boss. In the flesh."  
  
Some other times I would dream of Florida as a place so far away it takes us forever to reach the ocean, so we keep on driving and driving for years and we get old, which bothers you immensely, but I am quite content although I never tell you so. You even forget about shooting me. And it is quite funny because you still get nervous when it is my turn at the stirring wheel, and you still don't like pineapples all that much but you eat them anyway because it's all we have.


	10. dieci.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tutto per niente (IT. /ˈtutto pɜː(ɹ) 'njɛnte/), "all for nothing".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: 91 Days  
> Author: antosenpai  
> Note: Sequel!AU  
> Word Count: 1273

**dieci.**  
  
  
  
“When they told me Nero Vanetti was at my door, I could not believe my ears.”  
  
Strega makes me sit in the comfiest armchair of what appears to be his best reception room, or could be, if it weren’t for that claustrophobic shade of deep red velvet everywhere. Even at the windows, tightly shut, despite it being early afternoon and still sunny outside. I have even been served original muscat Zibibbo wine with Sicilian pastries. Needless to say, everything is untouched.  
  
He is so confident he didn’t have me patted down. This is his territory, after all, and surely if I even just thought of making a move I’d be turned into a sieve, but I am a hundred and ten percent sure this is also some strategy of his to lead me into a false sense of security.  
I wish he’d stop pacing the room like a starved shark circling around its prey.

“I must admit, I was suspicious. It seemed too easy, you know? You left without a trace. One entire week turning the whole of Florida inside out and then you deliver yourself spontaneously. Magically, almost. I thought you might have taken the first cruise to Europe and fled the country forever.”  
  
Every single one of his words are carefully pronounced in a clear attempt to tick me off. _He knows I know_. It is a trap, a painstakingly crafted trap. Every fibre of my being is trying to warn me, but I am already completely absorbed into the struggle against the urge to wipe that fucking smirk off his face.  
  
I pretend to be bored with his preliminary speeches, fingertips touching and tapping in front of my chest. _Get to the point._  
  
“The Don, the last in the Vanetti lineage, in the flesh. You are like a mythological creature nowadays, always escaping the scene at the most convenient time, little _elusive_ you.”  
  
He stops abruptly right before me, each hand clasping one armrest of my chair, his entire body bent forward so I would recede. There’s something unnerving and turbid in the blue of his eyes, and the heavy scent of his cologne is nauseating, but I don’t surrender half an inch of my space to him.  
  
“But here you are.”  
“Here I am indeed.”  
“Sitting on my chair without a worry in the world, I see, spitting image of your late father who could only _act_ like a king but never truly achieved to become one. The poor old fool.”  
  
_Don’t you dare._  
I laugh briefly.  
  
“You seem to be having lots of fun with this little game of yours.”  
“Anything wrong with that? I appear to have the upper hand, and I cannot deny I do enjoy keeping a doomed man on his toes.”  
“Good on you. I’d like to wrap things up before dark, though, so I can have dinner early as mushroom risotto is my favourite and this is kind of boring. No offence. You’re not exactly the entertainer.”  
  
Strega grabs me by the lapel of the jacket, surprisingly violent. And while I am sturdy enough not to budge, I can picture Angelo being thrown around easily.  
  
“You are in no position to make demands, Nero. I do hope you realise that your fate rests in my hands _and my hands alone_.”  
“Well, I have been served fine wine and cannoli so I had raised my expectations on courtesy standards a little, but I see you take after Ronaldo after all. My bad.”  
  
The gun barrel feels icy on my boiling hot forehead. I can sense both nervousness and fury travel from him to myself and vice-versa through the firearm like a steady, yet indiscernible vibration. I am sure Strega can feel it just as clearly.  
_Fio, I am sorry I never learn. I promise you this: if I do manage to come back, I will make this the last chapter of my life as a daredevil._  
  
“ _How do you want to die, son of a bitch?_ ”  
“I don’t want to die at all. Not yet, at least”, my voice so casual it sounds foreign to my own ears, “Because apparently my sister wants to name her child - my nephew, can you believe that? How good does _‘uncle Nero’_ sound? - after me, _yes!_ Two Neros in the family, see my point? I really cannot miss that. Plus”, all ten knuckles whitening as my fingers entwine, “I’ve been told you have something of _mine_ , and as much as I’d like to think it has been a mere accident, I cannot turn a blind eye to my things being touched.”  
  
Silence as thick as fog.  
  
“Oh”, I don’t like the resonance in that, “ _I see_.”  
  
Strega navigates the room all the way back to an adjacent smaller parlor I hadn’t noticed before, half concealed behind the drape of a decorative, ugly divider. I don’t want to make my restlessness transpire, so I feign patience and do not turn around just yet. _It’s coming._ I know it is and I am so unprepared I don’t know what to expect from my instinctive reaction to what I am about to see.  
  
“You mean _him_.”  
  
Our eyes lock the moment Strega lets go of his hair and drops him on the floor with an artificial ease, like a puppet whose strings were suddenly cut off. I am so taken aback by that scene I can’t read anything in Angelo’s stare, not pain, nor helplessness, not even his usual apathy, nothing. Not a single breath escapes the grinding cage of my teeth behind my pursed mouth.  
  
“Take a good look, Nero”, my insides squirm with a sudden spasm at the sight of his heel on Angelo’s bruised cheek, “This is what I do to what’s yours.”  
“Stop.”  
“ _Want to know what I did to him?_ ”  
“Stop.”  
“ _I had him tied to this same chair you’re sitting on for five days straight, I beat the shit out of him while you were away, I starved him, broke his bones, burnt him, I fucked his fine ass to my heart’s content night and day, all this while you were hiding away, safe, coward, and would let everyone around you sacrifice themselves without a second thought._ ”  
“I said. _Fucking. STOP_.”  
“And why on earth would I ever do that, exactly?”  
“Because you are an honorable man with business sense who wants to make a good deal.”  
“I am all ears.”  
“You can have the Lodge”, _I’ll tear you to shreds_ , “and the rights on the recipe for our liquor. I am still the Don. Everyone in Lawless respects me and the Family and we have ties, deals and allies all around your territory”, _I will rip you apart_ , “Have it all, Strega. I add to this our estate on the West side. I will retire. You have my word you will never hear from me or any of us, ever again.”  
I have no idea how I managed to say all that with indifference while my stomach is twisting and turning _and oh my God I swear I’ll tear you to pieces, heavens have mercy the day I lay my hands on you._  
“In exchange, just give him back, right now, before I fucking change my mind.”  
  
“You are far too generous _or_ desperate, Nero. I don’t need, or _want_ , any of that. Why would I, when I can ask for what’s _truly_ most dear to you?”  
  
_My pride._  
  
“Do you want me to spare his life that bad?”  
Barely audible, “ _I do_.”  
“I don’t think I heard you.”  
_I’ll kill you_ , “I do. I do.”  
“Then _kneel before me_ and swear your loyalty, Don Vanetti.” __  
Strega’s jewelled hand in my face.  
”Like the dog you are.”


	11. undici.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tutto per niente (IT. /ˈtutto pɜː(ɹ) 'njɛnte/), "all for nothing".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: 91 Days  
> Author: antosenpai  
> Note: Sequel!AU  
> Word Count: 1149

**undici.**  
  
  
_I am about to die._

Eyes averted from the scene the moment Strega steps on my face, my mind starts to wander. I don’t want to look, and if I could, I would shield my ears too from all this, until everything turns black once more. This time, hopefully, for good.  
The screech of wood on wood reverberates through my skin and I am back in Florida, wandering off along the shore, only one bullet separating me from the peace I long for more than anything.  
The faintest smile, a deep breath, heavy eyelids. _Luce, mum, dad, I’m coming home._

  
Nero drops to his knee, head lowered, the back of Strega’s hand pressed against his lips and I cannot believe what I am seeing in a million years. Strega’s amused laughter, _baciamo le mani_ , I’ve never heard Nero speak Italian before, the sharp noise of a weak slap on his cheek, “ _Good boy, you’re a good boy_ ”, a burning hand on my left shoulder. My eyes burn even more.  
  
“We’re going home.”  
  
Nero lifts me up from the floor and I don’t make a sound.  
Strega is still laughing, “I’ll have you sent back by taxi. You should be thankful.”  
I hold on tight onto the back of his jacket and Nero doesn’t make a sound either.  
  
We are both in the back of a large car and two men are facing us, armed with machine guns, while another sits in the front, driving us away. I stare at Nero and Nero looks outside with his neck bent back, then I fall asleep and when I wake up it is already dark and gloomy. He hasn’t moved one inch.  
“Nero”, I call out, the distance between us and the storm outside enough to muffle my words, “Are you awake?”  
I think he is, but he doesn’t answer back so I go to sleep again. I love to sleep when it rains and I never told this to anyone in my life, not even my brother, not even Corteo. I love the noise of the drops tapping confusingly on the ceiling, the way the whole world seems to shut up and listen, just listen, for a while.  
Next time I wake up I am lying down across the seats and the palm of Nero’s hand on my shoulder is freezing cold.  
  
“We’re home”, I think he said, and I have no idea where home would be, but I nod and get up slowly. It is still raining.  
We get both drenched on our way to the entrance of a small estate, still escorted by the Galassias with their guns. Neither of us seems to care too much.  
We shut the gate behind us and they keep guard outside, under the pergola.  
Nero leads us to the double door and I follow him close behind. I like the tree near the pathway, it reminds me of the one I used to lean my bike against when I was little. I think it’s called a peach tree.  
Nobody greets us inside, and I think it might be the case that we are actually alone - judging by the size of this residence, the occupant should be more than enough to look after it. I get a strange vibe from its walls, something I can’t quite place, like nostalgia.  
I am somehow eager to know more, despite being so tired, but I don’t think Nero is feeling very talkative. I also want to ask him how he’s feeling but at the same time I really don’t want to ask him. It makes perfect sense in my mind.  
  
“There’s a bath upstairs, past the guestroom on the left. I suggest you run the water as hot as possible, soak in for a while, and then go straight to sleep.”  
“Nero”, I try to say something, but he wanders off somewhere else before I can even finish the thought in my mind.  
  
The warm bath was a good idea. Looking at myself in the mirror, not so much.  
  
I find fresh clean clothes neatly folded on the bed, some loungewear in light blue cotton. Counting the bruises and cuts and burn marks from cigarettes, fifty-four as grand total excluding my back which obviously I cannot see. I look like a map of the world in shades of purple and red.  
“That was Frate’s”, he startles me a little, but I am way too exhausted to react, “Thought it would fit you.”  
He’s still standing on the door, borderline between the dark void of the corridor and the diffused yellow-orange from the lightbulb inside my abat-jour, so I can’t really see his expressions. Not that there is any need to.  
“Nero”, I try again, and again he’s gone.  
  
I sleep my first peaceful, dreamless sleep in over seven years.  
  
*  
  
Two o’ clock, I am wide awake.  
  
I find him asleep on the sofa in the main sitting room, cuddling an empty bottle of something I can’t quite make out as I can barely read the label in the dim-light from the side table. The way he’s all curled up awkwardly against the armrest reminds me of the time in the shed on the beach, and I can’t help but finding funny how our last times seeing each other are always second-lasts.  
  
He smells like rain, smoke and nectarine.  
“Nero”, I try not to make him jump, “get changed and go to bed, or you’ll end up catching something.”  
His gaze is vitreous with alcohol and so lost it’s concerning even for his standards. He would normally get cheery and hyperactive from drinking, not sleepy or depressed.  
“Angelo?”  
“Yes, it’s me.”  
“What’s going on?”  
“Nothing, Nero, was just trying to get you into bed as you’re still drenched from hours ago and clearly drunk”, I’ve never seen him like this before, not even when Frate died, and I don’t mean just exhausted from too many cruel events in succession. I mean that he looks completely dissipated.  
”Just leave me here, I am not drunk.”  
”Yes you are, you stink”, at times like this I really wish he wasn’t this heavy, “Come on, hold onto me, I’ll take you upsta–”  
_”I said I am not drunk!”_  
”What are you shouting for?!”  
”I… _Please_ , just go back to sleep. I am fine. Go.”  
”Look, you are really pissing me o-”  
”Why did you do it?”  
”Do _what?_ ”, I’m at a loss now.  
”Leaving me”, _I’d swear he’s trying to read beyond my own eyes,_ “that morning, why did you leave me?”  
_And I’d swear I’m being left behind by the ticking of the clocks._  
”Because”, I begin, unable to process fast enough to buy myself more time and find better wording, “we were done with everything and didn’t need each other any more, I guess.”  
  
_And I’d swear I just managed to read something behind his eyes too._


	12. dodici.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tutto per niente (IT. /ˈtutto pɜː(ɹ) 'njɛnte/), "all for nothing".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: 91 Days  
> Author: antosenpai  
> Note: Sequel!AU  
> Word Count: 1246

**dodici.**   
  
  
  
_What did I lose everything for, then?_

One thing that mamma Connie would tell us all the time when we were little was: _do not ask questions if you are not ready to hear the answers_. I remember that clearly among all the blurred memories of school and Sunday roasts and lullabies, and as I am definitely not ready to hear that it was all for nothing, I just shut up.

“Come on now”, Angelo’s hands at my underarms like crutches, “Let’s get you into bed.”  
Everything is moving on its own so furiously I can’t make use of my eyes without causing myself more sickness, so I just keep them fixated on unimportant things in front of me. The old ashtray Frate broke a hundred times playing indoors and dad glued back a hundred and one because it was his favourite. The glass from the set that had belonged to grandma Claudia from her home in Italy, chipped by young me who was then grounded for a week. My own hands, unsteady, all the little bones under the skin I must have broken so many times throwing punches and never cared to heal properly.

No matter how much I try, the room won’t stop spinning and the moment I’m up standing, I literally crash everything that’s on the side table in an attempt to keep my balance. I can hear Angelo sighing faintly as he mutters something to do with tidying up later. _Why would you tidy up at all_ , I ask myself.

It takes us forever to get up there, or maybe I just can’t figure out much of the in between, because I’m already missing pieces all over the place when I try to recollect. Sitting on the bed feels like sinking and for a few seconds I am drowning inside the car in slow motion again, blood diluted everywhere and a pineapple can is floating away.  
I don’t realise I am holding onto both Angelo’s shoulders so tight his shirt is wrinkling between my fingers and he’s staring back at me from the floor, suspended in between confusion and dismay. When did he kneel down, when did he even take my belt off? Is this some pick-pocketing trick again? Why does everything he does feel like being robbed? How did we come to a point where it feels natural? _How could I let it happen?_

“Nero?”  
“Why didn’t you sell me out?”, I am not sure whether I spoke out loud or just thought of those words, “If we were done with each other”, _where did my mind go_ , “you could have just saved yourself then”, _where did it go_.  
“Nero… Let’s just get you to sleep. You are burning out. You drank too much.”  
“Answer me”, _give it back_ , “Who was closest to me didn’t think twice before selling me out to the enemy, but you didn’t”, _give it back_ , “Why?”, _give me back what you’ve stolen._  
“For no particular reason. I was ready to die like that and it would have been just fine. It was my choice. I knew I could run into them when I left you that morning, but I reckoned it was worth the risk.”  
“What did I lose everything for, then?”, _I never learn_.  
“For nothing. You should have kept your pride and honour. You shouldn’t have bent to Strega.”  
“What did I come all the way to Galassia’s for? What for? What?”, _I used to hold the entire world in the palm of my hand._  
“For nothing. You risked your life and gave away your power for nothing.”  
“It wasn’t for fucking nothing, I don’t do things for nothing, I didn’t give it away for nothing, he would have killed you eventually, it wasn’t for nothing, it wasn’t”, _am I missing the whole point again?_  
“It was. You’ve made your father and your friends turn in their graves with this. You could have died and your sister would have cried”, _I understand,_ “And don’t tell me I’m not fucking grateful”, _I understand now_ , “Nobody asked you to come back for me!”, _I finally understand._

Corteo.

_Fio, you were so right, I can’t even see my own hand in front of my face._

“The fuck are you doing now, Nero?”

I am not sure myself. Last time I held somebody like this it was my sister at her wedding and she didn’t complain even though I was creasing her bridal veil. “God, your stench is making me drunk too.”  
“Just put up with it for five minutes”, _this is for you,_ “Then I’ll let go. You have my word. I just need to tell you something and it’s easier like this”, _this is for myself too._  
“Go on, then, make it quick. I hate being touched, for fuck’s sake”, I can instinctively tell from the weak struggle that this is the correct thing to do. He did punch me in the face repeatedly to defend himself in the past, after all, so he would have done so again if needed. _Right?_  
“It is not your responsibility”, I don’t know where to begin, so I just do, “Whatever I do, whatever happens to me, it’s me who’s deciding. I will never blame you for my decisions. And you don’t have to blame yourself.”  
“When did I say I am blaming myself?”  
“Doesn’t matter”, _yes you are, yes you are_ , “Just know that I’ll always come back and you have nothing to do with it. It’s my own selfish decision. My fault entirely if I die or lose it all. It’s like when you do it for me, without me asking. I won’t let this happen to you again.”

I can hear the ticking of the grandfather clock from downstairs clearly, then it’s suddenly three o’ clock. Another thing that mamma Connie used to say all the time, is that people are at their truest selves at three o’ clock in the morning. It finally clicks me.

“Because we are family. Family is who you do this kind of things for, but that doesn’t mean anything if one of us is gone. Otherwise there is no family left.”  
“You are so fucking drunk.”  
“Ask me again tomorrow then”, _was he always this thin?_ “Test me when I sober up and see it for yourself.”

I half-expect Angelo to shove me away at this point but he doesn’t appear to have any intention to, so at first I don’t move at all, then I try holding him a little tighter to stop our shaking. It feels awkward, but it kind of works. His breath feels slower against my ear and the tension in his spine looser under my fingertips.

“ _Don’t you fucking dare_ ”, quiet fury is the Angelo I know, “ _Don’t you fucking dare die for me too_.”  
“I won’t. I cherish my life very much. And you should cherish your own too.”  
“People don’t understand it pains way more to stay than to die.”  
“I do. You taught me the hard way.”

Tick, tock.

“Nero.”  
“Angelo?”  
“This is the reason I left.”  
“I know. It’s fine.”

Tick, tock.

“It wasn’t easy.”  
“It wasn’t easy at Strega’s either.”  
“I know.”

Tick, tock.

“Nero?”  
“Yes?”  
“ _Thank you_.”  
“What for?”  
“For doing it even though it wasn’t easy.”  
“ _Anytime_.”

Tick, tock.

“Say, Angelo.”  
“What?”  
“Is it really that bad?”  
“What?”  
“To be like this. Not to be done with each other just yet.”

Tick, tock.

“ _I guess not_.”

Tick, _tick_.


	13. tredici.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tutto per niente (IT. /ˈtutto pɜː(ɹ) 'njɛnte/), "all for nothing".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: 91 Days  
> Author: antosenpai  
> Note: Sequel!AU  
> Word Count: 1816

**tredici.**

We light our tenth cigarette as the clock hits the fifth hour. Like its nine sisters, it travels from me to Nero and back, then back to him again as it reaches its end, because he likes the bitter aftertaste of the filter.

My left arm feels numb under his, so I lazily move from one side to the other of the bed to swap our territories around, so I can stretch my legs across the small room all the way to the window - feet on the wooden sill, head on the pillow Nero has been keeping on his lap all the time. _Ah_. It's more comfortable than it looks.

The night breeze steals all the smoke away before I can make circles with my mouth like Nero usually does.

"You're really useless at this..."  
"Shut up", I growl, and he laughs, because it's true and he knows I know.  
We've been talking a little but it feels like a whole lot because I haven't spoken this with anyone since childhood. I have learnt all sorts of useless stuff about Nero no one really cares about: that he was expelled from school once for ogling a nun's underskirt, for example. That his favourite dessert is Italian tiramisu and he was on the toilet two hours straight one time because he ate the whole thing on his own. That he fell in love for the first time at age nine with some girl called Lavinia and never told her _because she was way, way too pretty for someone like him_ , he swears it's true. _In vino veritas_ , ‘in wine, truth’,   they say.

And despite being absolutely against sharing trivial details about myself in exchange, I was forced into telling him that I've never really been to school because my mother would teach us at home, that I'd kill for warm pancakes smothered in maple syrup and I've been with countless people but never loved anyone.

"Never? Like, never _never_?"  
"God forbid", his face looks more perplexing than ever from my upside-down perspective as I look up, "it was a job, sort of, you know", he does this weird gesture with his lips each time I pass the cigarette, like an involuntary childish pout.   
"I still can't believe that", his smoke circles are always perfect and I hate him a little for that, "You... A pickpocket  _and_ a prostitute."  
"It's called a gigolo."   
"Whatever. My point still stands."   
"I needed money and I don't have particular talents. What's so unsettling about it?"   
"You can shoot fine?"   
"Well _excuse me_ if being a professional murderer wasn't my first choice, mister."   
"Idiot. You can do plenty, I am sure", the fact that he really does seem sure about it is both amusing and embarrassing to me, "you are cunning and smart, you'd make a great lawyer."   
"Or a scammer."   
"Still a better option than a prostitute."  
"Gigolo."   
"You are boring. Really. You ask too much of a drunk man."   
"Don't blame me _or_ the wine for your ignorance, Nero", I just sounded like an exhausted mother with too many children.

"So", I know the moment he speaks again that I am not going to like it, "was Strega your first man experience?", _here we go_.   
"Are you really going there? Really?"   
"I just... It's curiosity. We don't have to talk about it", sometimes I wish I could just gauge those innocent eyes of his out so he can't get away with this shit anymore.  
"No, he wasn't", I get the cigarette back abruptly to steal the disgusting last piece from him, "I've been with women and men alike when I was a kid. Now do yourself a favour and change topic."   
"I've never been with a man..."   
"Good on you", I swear he does it on purpose to piss me off.   
"I don't like the idea of what he did to you."   
"Oh believe me, neither do I." and here goes my peace, to ashes like the stupid cigarette that has just ruined my mouth out of spite.  
  
I literally spend the next five minutes trying to figure out a way to piss him off in return because I am absolutely not childish and he deserves to be smacked in the face with a chair but I can’t be bothered to get up.  
  
"Nero. There is something I haven't told you, that would probably make you want to kill me on the spot", _Angelo, don't_.   
"That's promising. What is it?"   
I inhale the deepest breath and take my sweet time thinking of the most brutal way to tell him, because I know he hates being left hanging after a question. _  
_

"I have shouted _your_ name to frustrate Strega, at times, when he would think I was actually taking pleasure in it."

I am not too sure why but I feel quite proud of this revelation, like when you do something really amazing but nobody's watching. Only there is nothing amazing about shouting someone else's name while you're being raped just to annoy the perpetrator.

Nero's so quiet for a few minutes I start suspecting he might have either fallen asleep or pondered the perfect murder, but then the sudden warmth of the palm of his hand on my forehead startles me.   
"What?"   
"Nothing", he seems so casual it almost makes _me_ sound like _I_ was the weird one for asking, "I just felt like doing it."   
"...Is this it?", now I am half lost, half disappointed by the lack of shocked reaction.   
"I think you are the toughest person I know", _excuse me?_ , "it is awkward and embarrassing to say but I admire you. Really."   
"What the fuck, Nero", I don't even try to hide the disconcert anymore.   
"What? It's true", can you stop being so idiotically naive?, "your survival skills are amazing and your mind is as strong as a fortress. You can come up with some really clever ideas and you never let anyone take advantage of you. I wish I was more like you, sometimes. Most of the times."   
"Just... just shut up. Shut up", _I want to fucking cry, thank you. Fuck you, Nero. Fuck you._   
"It's true", I slap his hand off my face but he places it back there straight away, "it's all true", _don't you fucking dare curling up on me._

"Angelo--"   
_"Fuck. You._ "   
"I blame the wine. I have done plenty of embarrassing things tonight", _he's seriously trying to hug me again I swear to God this was so counterproductive_ , "don't make me pay for this too much tomorrow."   
"Get off me. I said fuck _off_."   
"I don't stink anymore. Can't you just let me do this while I'm still drunk?"   
"I'm going to punch the living lights out of you if you don't let go right this second--"   
" _I will kill him_ ", his whisper reaches my ear so faintly I am a hundred percent sure I imagined it but then nothing is going to surprise me anymore after all this.   
"...Who?"   
" _I will kill him_ ", wait, why are you breathing like this?, " _for all he has done to you, I swear I will fucking kill him._ "   
  
I take that back.   
Drunk goddamn Nero Vanetti quietly crying on my shoulder definitely _did_ surprise me.

"Nero... it's fine _._ You don't have to kill anyone."  
“ _I will kill him_ ”, the conviction in his voice dissipates any doubt he might be joking or exaggerating the matter, “ _I will kill him with my own hands and make him regret every single time he believed he could get away with that._ ”  
“Nero, it’s like... The worst idea you’ve ever had and that’s really something considering your standards. You don’t need to do any of that, it’s fine--”  
“ _Actually_ y _ou know what,_   _I will fucking shoot him in the legs until he has nothing to stand on and when he’s half dead on the ground I will let you run him over until you’re satisfied._ ”  
“That’s-- Oddly specific, I appreciate the thought but no”, _I swear to God_ , “Can we just forget about this?”, _I swear to God this man is the nastiest piece of work,_ “Really, it’s fine.” _  
“There is nothing fine about what happened_ ” _,_ was he always like this? _“The next best thing to do is to make him pay._ ”   
“You just promised you wouldn’t get yourself killed for some stupid reason. Literally a couple of hours back”, trying to talk sense to him is wasted in this state, so I better cut it short, “Just go to sleep. Never knew you were the emotional type when drunk, by the way.”  
  
The look in his eyes tells me I crossed the line with that last bit.  
  
“Why do you think I have been drinking this much?”  
 _Because you were unable to prevent this from happening,_ “...Because you were frustrated about swearing your loyalty to the Galassias?”, _Because I had to pay for your weakness again._  
“Because I was unable to prevent this from happening”, eyes wide open as he literally reads my mind out loud like an open book, “Because you had to pay for my weakness again“, _I’ve never been an open book to anyone before.  
_ “You have some serious chivalry complex, I hope you know that”, _pins and needles in my cheeks as I try not to react surprised at what just happened_ , “Now stop getting all sappy and go to sleep. It’s like six in the morning, this is ridiculous.”  
“Angelo, why were you smiling just now?”  
“And why were you crying?”  
“I was _not_ crying.”  
“Then I was _not_ smiling”, _ha! Best comeback ever_. “Shut up and go to sleep.”  
  
Surprisingly, he actually does lay down in silence, turning his back on me and facing the wall. I blink repeatedly in astonishment, then shrug it off and the dawn is breaking over the rooves outside as usual: indifferent to us and our tribulations.  
I decide to have one last cigarette before leaving, as an excuse to enjoy the view and longed quietness, legs crossed, slouching.

"Angelo?"   
"Sleep..."  
" _Thank you, too._ "   
I manage to do perfect smoke circles but he's not watching.   
"What for?"   
"For staying", the bed sheets crisply wrinkling when he turns around to face me in the first light of day, "even though it wasn't easy."   
  
So I rest my hand on his mouth and Nero inhales from the nicotine seamlessly with eyes closed, then it's back to me before his taste fades away from the filter and I am smoking both Nero and the cigarette, and he's smoking me again and we're smoking each other until neither can tell the difference between us anymore.   
Eleven cigarettes divided by two and somehow we're still even, against logic and maths and the rules we bend.   
And I guess for once it is ok for me to answer back like he would, like he _did_ , and like I want to.   
  
" _Anytime._ " 


End file.
